The return of the almost-mom
Tuesday, May 16:
Oh, what a week and a half. (Sorry for not posting, Mega Mom).
My mother and sister came for a week, and they nearly ran me ragged. I enjoyed every minute of it, of course, so I can’t complain, but I’m way behind in my work, and I’m way tired.
We celebrated my mother’s birthday last Tuesday with a day of activities. I called it her “birthday kidnapping” because my sister and I wouldn’t tell her what we were going to do with her from one moment to the next. (“You girls are up to mischief!” “Don’t worry, it’s nothing big. It’s not like we hired a male stripper or are taking you out of the country or anything.”) The main part of the kidnapping involved spoiling her with spa treatments.
But even before we could get the birthday kidnapping going, they gave me a baby shower.
They came full of gifts for the baby -- all in a lavender bag so large that I can’t imagine where they could have found something so huge. There were onesies, blankets, hooded towels, socks, a baby health kit, soft padded book and on and on. There were even a couple maternity tops for me.
The gifts they seemed most proud of, though, were a webcam (my sister’s idea) so they can see the baby long distance, and a leaf-thin CD player for the baby. (Husband: “The kid already has a CD player?! I didn’t get a CD player until I was 16.”)
They also threw in a box of 192 diapers. (Husband: “We’re going to need a bigger house.”)
Whatever we did all week, my mother and sister were supportive of me. Whining because my maternity clothes don’t quite fit yet, so I have to go out and buy size 13 jeans so I have something to wear? Worried I’m going to ruin the baby’s life? Wondering when I’m going to find time to get the current junk room turned into a real nursery? They were the most sympathetic I have ever seen them. Ever. They weren’t concerned about giving me one sip of their bellinis. And they bid me goodbye with a giant tiramisu, which I’m still nibbling away at.
And then there was Mother’s Day. Since my husband’s sister sent me that first Mother’s Day card, I have received others. It’s a strange, wonderful feeling, yet I feel like an imposter. I mean, I haven’t even done so much as allowed myself to be spit up on. How can I possibly be celebrated along with the mothers who have actually given birth and done the day-to-day tasks of raising another human being?!
But in any case, my husband gave me a beautiful handmade Mother’s Day card. And two picture books -- one of my favorites, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie (Yes, I read picture books. I always have. Now I have an excuse to loiter in the children’s section of the bookstore.) -- even though the books aren’t technically for me.
What he doesn’t know is that while I was out running around with my mother and sister, I picked up a couple Father’s Day gifts for him -- which are technically for him and not the baby, unless the baby can whip up ice cream confections a la Cold Stone Creamery.
All in good time.
Oh, what a week and a half. (Sorry for not posting, Mega Mom).
My mother and sister came for a week, and they nearly ran me ragged. I enjoyed every minute of it, of course, so I can’t complain, but I’m way behind in my work, and I’m way tired.
We celebrated my mother’s birthday last Tuesday with a day of activities. I called it her “birthday kidnapping” because my sister and I wouldn’t tell her what we were going to do with her from one moment to the next. (“You girls are up to mischief!” “Don’t worry, it’s nothing big. It’s not like we hired a male stripper or are taking you out of the country or anything.”) The main part of the kidnapping involved spoiling her with spa treatments.
But even before we could get the birthday kidnapping going, they gave me a baby shower.
They came full of gifts for the baby -- all in a lavender bag so large that I can’t imagine where they could have found something so huge. There were onesies, blankets, hooded towels, socks, a baby health kit, soft padded book and on and on. There were even a couple maternity tops for me.
The gifts they seemed most proud of, though, were a webcam (my sister’s idea) so they can see the baby long distance, and a leaf-thin CD player for the baby. (Husband: “The kid already has a CD player?! I didn’t get a CD player until I was 16.”)
They also threw in a box of 192 diapers. (Husband: “We’re going to need a bigger house.”)
Whatever we did all week, my mother and sister were supportive of me. Whining because my maternity clothes don’t quite fit yet, so I have to go out and buy size 13 jeans so I have something to wear? Worried I’m going to ruin the baby’s life? Wondering when I’m going to find time to get the current junk room turned into a real nursery? They were the most sympathetic I have ever seen them. Ever. They weren’t concerned about giving me one sip of their bellinis. And they bid me goodbye with a giant tiramisu, which I’m still nibbling away at.
And then there was Mother’s Day. Since my husband’s sister sent me that first Mother’s Day card, I have received others. It’s a strange, wonderful feeling, yet I feel like an imposter. I mean, I haven’t even done so much as allowed myself to be spit up on. How can I possibly be celebrated along with the mothers who have actually given birth and done the day-to-day tasks of raising another human being?!
But in any case, my husband gave me a beautiful handmade Mother’s Day card. And two picture books -- one of my favorites, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie (Yes, I read picture books. I always have. Now I have an excuse to loiter in the children’s section of the bookstore.) -- even though the books aren’t technically for me.
What he doesn’t know is that while I was out running around with my mother and sister, I picked up a couple Father’s Day gifts for him -- which are technically for him and not the baby, unless the baby can whip up ice cream confections a la Cold Stone Creamery.
All in good time.
posted by Damselfly at 9:05 PM
1 Comments:
oh yes you are a mom!
you're taking great care of that sweet baby every day already. don't feel guilty. this is such a special mother's day, and so will next year's. enjoy it all. no guilt!
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